On Tuesday, the fifth day of October, 1915, Major Mowbray Huntington came to Fairweather, in pursuance of the order issued to him, to hold an election for the office of first lieutenant of Company E. The election was to be held at eight o’clock in the evening of that day, in the company room at the armory. But, long before the hour for balloting had arrived, members of the company came strolling in by ones and twos and began to gather in little groups on the drill floor of the armory. There was no acrimonious debate, nor was there any exhibition of violent partisanship. The time for argument and for proselyting had gone by. But there was intense interest. It was now a question of which of the two candidates had secured the most prospective votes. Every one agreed that the contest was fairly close, but Barriscale’s adherents were confident in their prediction that he would win out by a safe majority. Nor had Hal’s friends given up hope. They felt that it was still among the possibilities that he should be elected. At any rate, he had made a clean, aggressive, splendid fight, and they were proud of him. He had never been half-hearted in the matter; not from the moment of his decision to enter the contest. At first he had been contented simply to announce his candidacy without entering into any active campaign. But when he learned what a strenuous fight his opponent was putting up, how he was leaving no stone unturned, no influence unsolicited, no argument, fair or unfair, unused; he threw himself more keenly into the contest, enlisted the active support of his friends in the company, and carried on a vigorous fight up to the very close of the campaign. And now the final chapter had been reached.

At eight o’clock the assembly was sounded, the men fell in in full uniform with side-arms, according to military law, the roll was called, the command turned over to Captain Murray, and the company marched to the large room on the second floor, where seats had been arranged in rows for purposes of the election.

At the table at one end of the room sat Major Huntington, flanked on his right by Captain Murray, and on his left by Second Lieutenant Brownell, while Corporal Manning, the company clerk, occupied a seat at one end of the table.

When the clerk had read to the company the order for the election, Major Huntington arose and said:

“In compliance with the order just read we will now proceed to the election of a first lieutenant for Company E. It has been certified to me that your company carries sixty-seven regularly enlisted men on its roll, all of whom are present in uniform. You therefore have nine more members than the minimum number required for holding an election. A candidate must receive at least thirty-four votes in order to be elected. I understand that there are but two known candidates for the office, and that printed ballots have been distributed containing their names. However, lest any man should be without, or should not care to use, a printed ballot, the clerk will now distribute blank slips to you, on which a candidate’s name may be written. Five minutes after this distribution has been made, I shall have the company roll called, and each man, as his name is spoken, will come forward and deposit his ballot in the box on the table. I have appointed Captain Murray and Lieutenant Brownell to be inspectors of the election. After the votes have been cast they will be counted by us, and the result will be immediately announced.”

There was some whispering among the men, and a few of them began to write the name of their candidate on the blank slips which had now been distributed to them. For the most part, however, the electors sat quietly with their printed ballots in their hands, awaiting the calling of the roll.

It was during this lull that Private Stone arose in his place. Stone was a clerk in the employ of the Barriscale Manufacturing Company, and a violent partisan of the first sergeant.

“May I ask for information?” he inquired.

“You may,” replied the presiding officer.

“I want to know if, under military law, a man is eligible to election as first lieutenant over the head of a man who is now his superior officer, and who is also a candidate?”

“I know of no rule of military law,” replied the chairman, “that denies his eligibility.”

Friends of McCormack, who had looked up apprehensively when the question was put, breathed freely again.

“Then I want to know,” continued Stone, “if it is according to military custom for an under officer to be promoted like that?”

“As a general thing,” replied Major Huntington, “officers go up in accordance with their existing rank. But it is not contrary to military ethics to jump grades. The members of a company have a perfect right, if they choose to do so, to elevate a private to the captaincy over the heads of all intervening officers.”

But Stone was persistent.

“Do you think,” he asked, “that things like that are for ‘the good of the service’? Isn’t it better for military discipline that men should work their way up in regular order?”

“That,” replied the major, “is a matter that I cannot discuss with you at this time. You must settle that for yourselves, by your ballots.”

Stone resumed his seat, somewhat crestfallen, amid the smiles of those who were not in sympathy with him. But no sooner was he seated than Hooper, another ardent Barriscale supporter, sprang to his feet. It was evident that Hooper was laboring under considerable excitement.

“One of the candidates here,” he declared, “is known to be a socialist and a companion of radicals who are opposed to all government. He doesn’t believe in the use of the military to suppress riot and disorder, nor in the punishment of any one who deliberately insults our flag. He is unpatriotic and un-American, and unsafe to be entrusted with the command of troops. Have we any right, legal or moral, to elect such a person as our first lieutenant?”

Before the last word was out of Hooper’s mouth, and before the chairman could make any response, Private Moore, a warm friend of McCormack’s, was on his feet.

“That’s slander!” he shouted, “and Hooper knows it. There’s no better soldier in the Guard, nor any more loyal citizen in this country than Sergeant Halpert McCormack; and it’s contemptible of you”—turning toward Hooper with red face and eyes blazing with indignation—“I say it’s contemptible of you even to intimate to the contrary.”

Under Moore’s fierce gaze and emphatic language Hooper wilted and resumed his seat.

Then Barriscale, himself, sprang into the breach. It was apparent that his lieutenants were not standing to their guns with the force and pertinacity that he had expected of them, and that he, himself, must leap in and push the argument home. Major Huntington, the chairman, had already raised his gavel, as if to shut off further discussion, but, apparently, having permitted Moore to be heard, he thought it was not wise to silence Barriscale. So the gavel did not fall.

“It’s no slander!” declared Barriscale, dramatically. “What Hooper says is all true, and he hasn’t begun to tell it all either. I’ve investigated. I know this man’s record. And I tell you that he comes little short of being a full-fledged anarchist. He would put the red flag, to-day, above the Stars and Stripes. I give notice, now, that when this thing is over, either he will be dismissed from the Guard or I will. I shall refuse to serve in the same company——”

He got no further. The buzz which had begun at the end of his first half dozen words had risen to a prolonged hiss, and it now deepened into a perfect roar of disapproval. Men on both sides sprang to their feet clamoring to be heard.

It was then, for the first time, that the chairman’s gavel fell; and it fell with a crash that evidenced his state of mind.

“Order!” he shouted. “I shall discipline the first man who remains on his feet or who says another word!”

Trained to obey commands, the men resumed their seats and were silent. But, on every face was a flush of excitement, apprehension or anger.

“I am astonished,” continued the chairman, “that members of this company should have been guilty of such a breach of military etiquette as this, or should have indulged in such an unsoldierly demonstration. I am here to conduct your election, not to settle your quarrels. I will say, however, that if the person who receives a majority of your votes is not approved by my superior officers, he will be denied a commission. Of that you may rest assured. The clerk will now call the roll, and you will come forward and deposit your ballots as your names are spoken.”

There was no more quarreling; there were no more charges or counter-charges. The time for action had come.

The clerk began calling the roll, and, as he called the several names, the men responded, advanced to the table, put their ballots into the box and resumed their seats.

When the voting had been completed the counting began. One by one the ballots were removed from the box by Lieutenant Brownell, exhibited in turn to Major Huntington and Captain Murray, and the name on them announced to Corporal Manning, the clerk, in a voice loud and distinct enough to be heard by every person present.

But the clerk was not the only one in the room who was keeping tally as the votes were counted. Fully half of the men there, with pencils and paper, were keeping their own record as the count progressed, and the other half were looking over their shoulders.

It was an absorbing occupation for all of them. The two candidates were running almost neck and neck. Now Barriscale was ahead, and now McCormack. After a few minutes the first sergeant began to forge a little farther to the front. When the fortieth ballot had been removed from the box and counted, his vote stood twenty-three to McCormack’s seventeen.

Surrounded by his friends, at the right of the first row of seats, Barriscale watched with intense interest the tally as Stone carried it along in blocks of five. He had never doubted his ultimate success in the election; now, with the vote standing as it did, he was more confident than ever. He did not see how it was possible, with the lead he had, for McCormack to overtake him. Already a smile of triumph began to overspread his face.

But the next two votes went to McCormack, and the lead was reduced to four. However, Barriscale got numbers forty-three, forty-five and forty-eight, thus holding his lead of four.

But forty-nine and fifty went to McCormack, leaving Barriscale a majority on the fiftieth count of only two.

Things began to look serious for the first sergeant.

Stone and Hooper were keeping tally with trembling fingers.

Barriscale, himself, was still optimistic concerning his success, and when the next three votes were recorded for him, carrying his lead up to five, the confident smile reasserted itself in his face, and he foresaw an easy victory.

There were only fourteen more ballots to be counted, and it was hardly within the range of possibility that he could now be defeated.

Then, alas for human probabilities! five votes in succession were announced for McCormack, so that, with the counting of the fifty-eighth ballot, the two candidates were for the first time tied.

Number fifty-nine was for Barriscale; but numbers sixty, sixty-one and sixty-two were all for McCormack, giving him a lead of two votes.

For the first time in all the strenuous campaign, the glimmer of hope in Hal’s breast, alternately fading and reappearing, brightened into a steady flame. There were but five more votes to be counted. Surely he might reasonably hope to get two of them.

As for Sergeant Barriscale, there was no smile on his lips now. He stared at the tally sheet with incredulous eyes. The votes that he had confidently counted on had not been forthcoming. It was evident that some one, more than one indeed, had played traitor to him. Already the fires of anger were beginning to blaze up in his breast. Had he harbored resentment too soon? It might be; for the next three ballots were for him. On the sixty-fifth count he was one ahead. There were but two more ballots to be counted. Surely he had a right to expect one of these. He grasped at the proverbial straw with the clutch of a drowning man.

The excitement in the room was intense but suppressed. Save for the voice of the chairman announcing the names on the ballots, and the voice of the clerk repeating them, there was absolute stillness. No one else spoke, or even whispered. Men scarcely breathed for the suspense that was on them.

Ballot number sixty-six was removed from the box, read and recorded. It was for McCormack.

The two contestants were again tied.

There was but one more ballot to be counted. That ballot would break the tie and decide the election.

Men put aside their tally sheets, or crumpled them in their hands, and leaned forward in their chairs, their eyes fixed on the lips of the presiding officer, in breathless anticipation.

Brownell reached into the box, drew out the last ballot, glanced at it, and handed it to Major Huntington.

The major looked at it in his turn, showed it to Captain Murray, and then announced the name written on it.

“Halpert McCormack.”

For the fraction of a minute there was dead silence. Then, like a clap of thunder, there came a swift outburst of applause. Hands, feet, throats united to acclaim the young officer-elect. Spontaneous, irrepressible, enthusiastic, the chorus of rejoicing rolled out from the company room, down the broad stairway, and across the wide drill-hall to its remotest corner. People waiting there in scores to hear the outcome of the election caught up the waves of sound and sent them echoing back to the room on the upper floor, though not one of them knew as yet whose victory it was.

Then, for the second time that evening, the chairman’s gavel crashed down on the table before him, but on his face there was no sign of annoyance or of disapproval as he announced the result of the balloting.

“Sixty-seven votes have been cast. Of these Sergeant Barriscale receives thirty-three, and Sergeant McCormack receives thirty-four. Second Sergeant Halpert McCormack has therefore been elected to the office of First Lieutenant of Company E. He will report to me for instructions immediately after the breaking of ranks. Captain Murray, you will now dismiss your company.”

Of course Hal was the hero of the hour. Of course people congratulated him right and left. If his head had been easily turned he would have faced backward forever after. Brownell was jubilant. Major-General Chick was delirious with joy. Aunt Sarah, waiting with her ear at the telephone receiver for word from the armory, could hardly contain herself when the victory was announced to her. When Hal went to see her the next day she saw him coming, met him on the porch, and kissed him on both cheeks in full view of the passers-by, greatly to his discomfiture.

But he partly consoled himself by saying to her:

“The men whom you especially interviewed in my behalf all voted against me. The next time I run for anything I’m going to lock you into the house and throw the key down the well. It’s not safe to have you at large on such an occasion.”

“You behave yourself!” she retorted, “and stop making fun of a defenseless old maid. Do you know what I’m going to do to punish you? I’m going to make you a gift of your officer’s uniform, and sword, and shoulder-straps, and the whole equipment, and——”

“Aunt Sarah, you mustn’t think——”

“You—keep—your mouth—closed. I——”

“But, Aunt Sarah!”

“I say shut up! The thing’s settled. How’s your mother to-day?”

If McCormack’s friends were jubilant over his election, he, himself, did not appear to be unduly elated. He did not seem to feel that his victory was a thing of which he should be especially proud. He had been elected by a bare majority of the votes of all the electors of the company, and he had won out over his opponent by only a single vote.

Nor had he been greatly ambitious to obtain the promotion. Indeed, had it not been for Barriscale’s surly conduct and attempted bribe, he would have persisted in refusing to be a candidate. But, now that he had been elected, he determined that he would fulfil the duties of his new position faithfully, to the best of his judgment and ability.

He was not objectionable to the bulk of the minority voters of the company. If he did not know that at the time of the election he learned it soon afterward. One by one, as opportunity offered, they came to him, congratulated him, and gave him sincere assurances of their entire loyalty. His opponent had, indeed, been their choice, either for reasons of preference or policy, but McCormack was in no sense displeasing to them. This, much to his satisfaction, they made him understand.

So, in due course, the return of the election was forwarded through regimental headquarters to the Adjutant-General, the several headquarters through which it passed endorsing thereon their approval. It was as follows:

This return was accompanied by McCormack’s acceptance as follows:

But there was no positive assurance that Hal would receive his commission. He still had Ben Barriscale to deal with, and Barriscale had threatened to force him out of the Guard. The first step in such a movement would of course be to attempt to block the confirmation of McCormack’s election before the military board authorized by law to deny a commission to elected but unapproved officers.

That the defeated candidate would not hesitate to take action of this kind, if he could be assured of any fair prospect of success, every one knew.

He was disappointed, angry, and bitter beyond belief over his defeat. He felt that he had been betrayed by some of those whose support he had a right to receive; that, as he said, they had given him “the double cross,” and that it was their defection that had led to his defeat. He did not know, or perhaps could not have understood if he had known, that it was his own injudicious and threatening outburst on the day of election that caused the changing of enough ballots to precipitate the disaster to his cause.

And he did not know, and was destined never to know, about the midnight visit of Chick Dalloway with Fred Lewis, nor why it was that McCormack carried the election by a majority of just one vote.

Of course much of his anger and resentment were directed toward his late opponent. His threat on the night of the election had been no idle one, and Hal and his friends knew it. They waited, therefore, not without some apprehension, to see what steps he might now take to prevent the first lieutenant-elect from ever having the benefit of his shoulder-straps.